


Avengers: Protect the Nerd!

by Anonymous



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abusive Howard Stark, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Stephen Strange, Gay Steve Rogers, Gay Tony Stark, Genderfluid Loki, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, Lesbian Natasha Romanov, M/M, Multiple chapters, Natasha knows everyones shit, Nonbinary Stephen Strange, Pansexual Bruce Banner, Pansexual Clint Barton, Pansexual Sam Wilson, Protective Avengers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, The Avengers are all LGBT, Trans Man Thor, Trans Peter Parker, switching POV, tony gets bullied
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-07-05 02:45:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15854634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Be aware: I'm terrible at summaries!Basically, Tony is a nerdy rich boy in a suburb where its cool to be rich but not nerdy. He gets bullied, but not for being a nerd.Steve finds him one day, after he had been beat up. Its then that Steve decides to protect Tony however he can.Multiple chapters, switching POV. Updates may take a while, I'm a senior in HS so I'm pretty busy.The first chapter is kinda short I think? I don't know, you can decide for yourself. I'd love to hear what you think in the comments!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [marvel_movieverse](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/marvel_movieverse) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> High School AU where Tony is bullied by someone and Steve finds out. It can have all of the other Avengers too. 
> 
> Required:  
> •Tony getting bullied/pushed around/beat up, preferably by a MCU villain besides Loki  
> •Stony  
> •Nerd!Tony  
> •No bashing of the Avengers  
> •Afghanistan did happen to Tony, just when he was younger. It was kept quite by his dad. Arc reactor is NOT required.
> 
> Preferences:  
> •Angst  
> •Happy ending  
> •Abusive Howard Stark  
> •Tony wasn’t friends with Steve beforehand  
> •Deaf!Clint Barton because reasons  
> •Tony and Rhodey are still BFFs and are very touchy feely with each other and have lots of sappy nicknames  
> •Tony has lots of scars
> 
> Bonus Points For:  
> •Tony/Steve/Bucky ship  
> •Tony skipped a grade  
> •Clint Barton/Phil Coulson ship (both of them high schoolers)  
> •All of the original Avengers team are high schoolers  
> •Finding some way to include Tony’s bots in the story  
> •Tony getting super hurt (not in a coma)  
> •Tony has a ‘rich boy’ mask  
> •Steve and Bucky have been best friends since forever  
> •Bucky lost his arm due to something traumatic (you decide)  
> •Bruce gets abused (physically or verbally) by his father  
> •Clint is in a foster home that also doesn’t treat him nicely  
> •Past Circus!Clint  
> •Barney Barton (Clint’s big bro)  
> •Rhodey knows about the abuse but can’t do anything about it for some reason (you decide)
> 
> I know that’s a lot, so sorry! But most of it is just bonus stuff soooo yeah

Howard Stark is one of the smartest men alive. He’s built so many novel innovations and been on the cover of Time Magazine eight times; you’d think a guy like that would be the perfect role model for a guy like me. The man who was probably used to being called a nerd, a freak, a pussy. But, you see, Howard Stark isn’t just one of the smartest men alive. He was MVP on his football team senior year of high school. He was student body president two years in a row. He got a full scholarship for his brain, yes, but he could’ve chosen the one that was also a full ride but for his stellar performance in football. It’s not hidden knowledge, but most people don’t know all that about him unless they’re a big fan and they see him as an idol. But I don’t see him as an idol. So why do I know all that?

Right, because I’m his son. And he shoves his credentials in my face every chance that he gets. It wasn’t so bad when I was a kid. Sure, he’d hit me for doing something stupid, for breaking something I wasn’t even supposed to touch. But I’m the curious type. I try new things, it’s all part of being a scientist. Dad wants more out of me, though. 

Now that I’m a junior in high school and all the awards I get are brain based, absolutely nothing “manly,” he gets pissed about that. The hits are harder and not always just his hand. It’s rough. 

But I don’t feel so alone. I have one friend I can confide in. Rhodey is my best friend. His dad is some big military dude and Rhodes is expected to follow in his footsteps. He doesn’t mind so much, and his parents aren’t too strict about it. He doesn’t feel too much pressure, so he’s fine hearing about the stupid shit I go through.

This morning is like any other, except I was dumb last night and now I’m running late. I’m shoving my feet into my sneakers as my dad yells up the stairs, “Hurry your ass up! You’re gonna be late!” I can hear the annoyance in his voice and the bite at the back of his tongue. I grab my backpack off the ground and stumble down the marble stairs and as I reach the last step he raises his hand. I flinch, what else can I do? He scoffs at me when he stops his hand mid-arc. “What a pussy. Get going, what’ll people think if you’re late? Idiot.” 

I head out the door, not daring to look back at him. After closing the door behind me I sigh and relax. Rhodey’s already parked outside. Shit. 

“Hey Rhodes!” I say, jumping into the passenger seat of his convertible, dropping my backpack at my feet.

“You’re a little later than usual. Is everything okay, hon?” Rhodey’s not asking to be rude, I know. He’s just concerned, that’s all.

“Yeah, I’m just an idiot. I stayed up working on that stupid extra credit assignment for Physics last night and slept in by accident. Dad was on my ass about it but nothing major happened. I’m fine.” Rhodey starts driving. Rhodey, unlike me, is a wonderful driver. That isn’t saying that it doesn’t bother me when he drives a little below the speed limit. I tend to go a little too fast, but it’s not like I’d get in trouble. Rhodey, on the other hand, knows that in this day and age he has to be a little more careful than myself, even though his family is just as well off as I am. I don’t bother asking him to speed up.

“We only have two years. Two years ‘til you can leave that hell hole. I promise, Tony,” Rhodey says, clapping me on the shoulder. “For college you and I can get a nice apartment and when we’re done there you’ll be able to go anywhere you want. You won’t have anything in your way.”

“Yeah, I just wish we were seniors instead of juniors, so we’d get there sooner. I can’t stand this place.” Our home town is one of those suburbs that’s got all types of housing, from mansions to apartments, but everyone is expected to be “bourgeois” and make tons of money. I don’t struggle with it, but that doesn’t make it any less shitty. You can see the preppiness dripping down the houses and onto the lawns; it’s terrible. Then again, I’m not really any better. I like to think I’m pretty smart and I dress well. It’d be hard to hide being one of the richest kids in town, so I don’t bother. Not that anyone cares. The social stratification at school isn’t based on wealth; it’s based on coolness. I’m not cool. I’m a nerd who doesn’t participate in or go to sport events in an area where sports are a status symbol. It’s annoying, but I’m pretty good at being a wallflower.

Rhodey pulls into his designated parking spot, and we get out and head to our lockers. He pats my shoulder again as we part ways, with a small smile on his face. Rhodey is such a good friend. He’s the one who’s stuck with me through everything…

I stop at my locker before going to homeroom. I kneel, placing some books into my locker, taking some out and shoving them into my backpack. As I rush to stand a force—that feels unmistakably like a shoulder—almost knocks me over. I look up, and I see Obadiah Stane sneering back at me as he walks away with his friends. 

I hurry into homeroom to take my preferred seat in the back right corner. I put my backpack down, tugging the zipper of the smallest pocket open to retrieve my phone and earbuds. Mr. Fury finishes up rollcall and I shove my earbuds in, quickly pulling up Spotify and turning on Age of Adz by Sufjan Stevens. 

I fold my arms on the table, letting my head drop onto them. Why can’t Obadiah just leave me alone? He used to be my friend. Back in middle school we were pretty close, I could’ve called him one of my best friends. But that all went south when I learned something new about myself in eighth grade. If I hadn’t told him about my feelings… I should’ve known he was a homophobe. I mean, I knew that his family was really conservative. But then again, so is Rhodey’s family and Rhodey didn’t blink an eye when I told him that I liked Obadiah. Rhodey said that though he didn’t like guys, he would totally support me as a friend. And he really has. Obadiah though… I told him that I had to tell him something; something really important that might change how he sees me. He told me that he wouldn’t care, that nothing could phase him. So, I told him I was gay. And he pushed me down on the ground and ran off. Ever since then he’s tormented me. I can’t help but think that this is for the better, though. I’d rather have a bully than lie to a friend.

 

~ * ~ * ~

 

I’m not so glad about my choices now though, as the bell indicating that the busses will leave in two minutes rings. Why? Because I’m hanging by my jacket on a hook in the closet in the boy’s locker room with my hands tied behind my back with a rope. Not to mention I have a bloodied lip and what’s probably a black eye. I’ve been here since sixth period. There are eight periods in the day. My phone is somewhere on the floor. I can still hear what he said while hanging me up on the hook:

“You don’t tell anybody that I did this, or the whole school learns that you’re a fag.”

That fucker. I can’t believe he’s blackmailing me. No, I can believe it. Friend betrayer. Asshole. I could call him more things. I’m a little too tired to do that now though. I spent a little too much energy trying to get off the hook. Damn my short stature.

Suddenly, the closet fills with light except for where a shadow of a figure is. The light is coming from behind him, like a halo. It takes a bit for my eyes to adjust to the new amount of light, but after that it’s not too hard to realize it’s the quarterback of the football team, Steve Rodgers. Mister “All American.” I’ve never spoken to him, but the only people that do are his teammates and his friends, so it’s not that surprising. He and I just stare back at each other for a second before he speaks.

“Um. Are you alright with me taking you down from there?” I blink back at him.

“No, I’d love to stay here for a bit.” Sarcasm drips from my voice. He looks at me blankly and I sigh. “Yes, please help me down.” He wraps his arms around me, lifting me off the hook and placing me on my feet. My hands are still tied, so I turn around. “Could you help me with this, too?” I feel his hands fumble with the rope, and then my hands are free.   
I turn back around and he’s kneeling. My phone! He’s typing something in it. He looks up at me, smiling as he stands. “Here,” he says, handing me my phone, “text me if someone does something like this again. I know we don’t know each other, but,” He pauses, finding his words, “I can’t stand this kind of shit.” I look down at the screen, and I see he’s added himself as a contact. (It says, “Captain America,” but it’s more like Captain Obvious.)

“Thanks,” I mumble. I close my phone, pocketing it. 

“No problem. Really, don’t hesitate to text me.” He smiles at me one last time, grabbing a football, and then he’s gone. I take my phone back out of my pocket and put a lock on it before leaving.


	2. Chapter Two - Steve's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their first interaction, Steve has a lot on his mind.
> 
> Thanks to my friend for helping my edit and stuff. If you're reading this, you know who you are.

After the encounter I had with Tony on Wednesday, I seem to notice him in the hallways more. I can’t help but be worried for him. His face is healing up nicely, though. His bottom lip only has a little scab type of thing indicating it had opened and bled. And the bruising around his eye is almost completely gone. I just wish I could talk to him.

Well, actually, he’s in my English class, so I totally could, if I didn’t think that he didn’t want me to talk to him. He just… He’s so quiet when it comes to personal conversations. He doesn’t seem to want to open up to anyone. So, I’m not going to try to force him to talk to me. I’ll just watch over him from afar. Which sounds a little stalker-y, but you can’t blame me, really. It’s just so easy for me to feel protective over him. Even though I know nothing about him other than his name. And he doesn’t seem to want protection. Well, it’s not like I’m bodyguarding him. I’m just… keeping a watchful eye.

I can’t really put a finger on why I feel protective of him. It could be because he looks frail. Not that that’s a bad thing or anything, I mean, to each their own and all that.

I feel half lucky that he doesn’t seem to be the type to go to parties – and then I feel guilty for feeling lucky. Maybe I’ll relax a little bit tonight at Sharon’s party. I know there’s gonna be a lot of people, a lot of drinks, and a lot of loud music. Hopefully I’ll be able to avoid girls who want to date and find a quiet corner to hang out with my friends.

To be honest, I myself am not a fan of big crowds and basically everything that a party entails, and my mom doesn’t like me going to them. But I kind of need to go, to make an appearance at least. To keep up my appearance as a supposedly social butterfly. My peers call me “Captain America” for a reason. Well, a couple reasons. “Captain” because I’m captain of the football team, and, well, America is a given. I look like a fricken Ken doll, but with better hair. Not a lot of people know me well, though. They don’t need to. They aren’t obligated to know and they don’t ask; it doesn’t bother me.

So yeah, Sharon’s party. The music is already pumping when I walk up to the door. Sharon lives with her Aunt Peggy, but she’s constantly going on business trips, so Sharon gets the house to herself a lot. The first party she had was eighth grade, and I had my first kiss there. It was with Sharon, actually. She was really accepting when I told her later that night that I realized that I’m gay. She wasn’t offended or anything. And she promised not to tell anyone, which really was a plus. Obviously, my friends know, but not everyone in town is as accepting as they are. I don’t think the football team would be as happy for me as my friends.

The door’s obviously unlocked, so I let myself in. A few people swarm up to say hello, high five me, stuff like that, but they let me go off on my own without too much fuss. I head over to the kitchen to grab a drink—Sprite, not alcohol— and head back out, not interacting with anyone too much. On my way back out Sharon comes in.

“Hey Steve!” She smiles warmly. “Your pals are on the patio out back. Have fun, alright?”

“Thanks,” I return the smile. “Oh, and, uh, stellar party, as usual.” With that, I head out to the patio.

The evening air in early October is a bit nippy, but I don’t mind it much. My friends are out there, like Sharon said. Thor, Sam, Bucky, Nat, Clint, and Bruce are sitting around the circular glass table that sits on the patio, chatting and drinking their drinks. “Hey, guys!” I greet them, smiling and taking my seat.

“Steve,” Natasha starts, “please tell these dummies that dance should count as a sport."

“Give it up already, Nat. No one’s gonna say that, even if Steve agrees with you,” Sam chuckles.

Thor glances between the two of them. “Actually,” he says, “dance should count. It’s a very strenuous amount of physical activity.”

“You’re not listening, man,” Sam interjects, “There’s gotta be a point system. Dancers don’t get points, you don’t have an opposing team that you’re trying to get more points than, so it’s not a sport! Anyways, you’re already in two other sports, you don’t need to prove how athletic you are.”

“By your definition, I’m actually in three other sports,” Nat smirks. “Color guard gets points and beats other color guard teams. So, I’m in three sports.” Sam grumbles something about color guard being a glorified version of dance but doesn’t really make an argument.

“You guys have this argument at least once a month, when will either of you give it a rest?” Bucky asks.

They both say “Never,” at the same time, making our friends laugh.

“I have something new for you guys to debate, now that I think of it,” I say, tone sounding pretty serious. “There’s this kid, I found him in the guy’s locker room closet. Beat up and hung by his jacket on a hook. He’s in my English class, and I can’t stop thinking about him. I want to offer to hang out with him, scare off whoever did that, but I have a feeling he wouldn’t want me to. What do you think I should do?"

My friends go quiet.

“Well,” Bruce says, “I think it would make sense to lay low for a bit. If he wanted help, he’d ask, right? Don’t want him to get mad at you or something.”

“I did give him my number, just in case, but he hasn’t texted me.”

“Well, there you go. He doesn’t want help, don’t force it on him.” Clint says, matter-of-factly. “I wouldn’t want someone up in my business, acting like I can’t take care of myself. He might’ve asked for help if it had happened before, but it was probably a onetime thing.”

Then it was decided. I wasn’t gonna bother Tony. It was probably a onetime thing anyway.

 

~*~*~

 

So, it’s not a onetime thing, I think to myself, looking down at the somewhat bloodied men’s bathroom floor. Tony’s laying in the middle of all the mess, curled up in a ball. He’s letting out short little huffs as breaths, and I can see where tears streaked down his cheeks. I can’t help but feel angered and upset at the same time.

I kneel down beside him and gently pat his shoulder. “Hey,” I bite the inside of my lip. “Are you conscious?” He nods feebly, opening his eyes slowly.

“You? Again?”

“You asked to go to the bathroom 15 minutes before class ended, and you don’t seem like the type to try and skip the last 15 minutes of school. I figured it wouldn’t be horrible for me to check, see if you were alright.”

He rubs at his eyes, wiping away the tears but smudging a small amount of blood across his face. “Well aren’t you some knight in shining armor.” The sarcastic tone is back, but his voice is raspier this time. I do my best to hold in a sigh and gently lift him so he’s in a more upright position with his shoulders leaning on my thighs.

“How much pain are you in? No matter what I should take you to the nurse,” I say, scowling softly. Some hair has matted to his forehead, I can’t tell if it’s from blood or sweat. Maybe both. I brush it out of his face, careful not to touch him too hard. “Was it the same guy as last time?”

He looks skittish, and his eyes are cast down. “I, I don’t know. Could be. He attacked me from behind, like the guy before.”

“I’m gonna take you to the nurse, and then I’m gonna go talk to the principal. Administration needs to know- “

“No!” He yelps. “I mean, uh, we can’t tell. They’ll call my dad, and maybe suspend me for getting in a fight… My dad would be so mad.”

“What will we tell the nurse then, huh?”

“I’ll walk into the nurses’ office,” he pauses and then adds, sternly, “by myself. And I’ll say I fell down the stairs. I’ll tell my dad the same thing. He might give me shit for being a clutz, but that’s better than losing a fight.”

I consider it. “I’m still walking you to the nurses, I don’t want you to actually fall down the stairs. Do you have someone who can take you home?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a friend I can call.”

That’s the last thing he says to me before I help him up and walk him to the nurses’ office. He’s limping, and his lip is bleeding pretty bad, but he doesn’t really seem phased by it. I take the opportunity to keep him a little close to me and get the chance to see how small he is compared to me. Don’t get me wrong, I never thought that he was a tall guy, but I didn’t think he’d be much shorter than average. It’d be cute, if he wasn’t all broken looking and limping. In this sort of situation it just looks sad. I watch him walk into the nurses’ office before turning to go to the other side of the school, where my car is parked.

 

~*~*~

 

After doing my homework, I lay down in bed, and open up my phone. I scroll through Instagram, trying to take my mind off Tony Stark. It doesn’t help. An idea hits me. I close out of Instagram, and open up my messaging app. I go to the group chat fittingly named “sport kiddos,” and glance at the most recent text – “sharon’s party is at 7, u dummy” – before typing. 

 

Captain America: Guys I need your help. The kid I found who was beat up? Found him beat up again. He doesn’t want to tell admin or even his dad.

Black Widow: who is he?

Captain America: Tony Stark. Do you guys know him?

All of them respond, saying in some way they know him, or at least know he is.

Captain America: we need to protect him. I can’t keep just finding him beat up. We need him to not get beat up anymore.

Hawkeye: Aren’t you quite the word-smith

Captain America: Shut up

Tin-Man: Steve, I’m sure he’ll figure out how to take care of himself.

Black Widow: Bucky, what if what happened to you happened to Tony? After hearing all this, wouldn’t you feel a /little/ responsible, for not doing anything?

Tin-Man: …yeah. We’ll need a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, my dear readers! Feel free to comment and give kudos! Sorry for the late update.
> 
> ~Your author


	3. Chapter 3 - Tony's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony deals with the aftermath of getting beat up in the bathroom and notices something odd.  
> caution: f-slur is used, and maybe more profanity, I'm not sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating in a bit! Thank you for the kind comments, those really do help motivate me!

My dad is still pissed at me for “tripping” yesterday. Who really gives a shit though; he’d be angrier if I told him the truth. Healing up this time was worse, too. I don’t know why Obadiah chose this year to start kicking the shit out of me, but at this point it feels like he’s trying to get me to change schools. Good luck to him, I guess, ‘cause my dad would never let me. He’s an alumnus from here, and he wants the same for me. I wish I could switch, though. It’s whatever, I guess. There’s nothing I can do about it, and that’s how it’s gonna stay. As long as I do all my work I’ll still be able to get a fuck ton of scholarships for when I graduate in two years, and then I’ll be able to go wherever I want.

  
Rhodey’s getting worried. I still can’t tell him it’s Obadiah, though. I won’t be able to until we graduate, but that’s okay. I can tough it out. Honestly, my dad has done worse.

  
And he’ll do worse if I don’t start getting ready for school. I don’t want to be almost late again. I pull on some slacks, tucking in my button up. I grab a sweater and put that on, too. It’s only the second week of October, but I get cold easy. I dash to the bathroom to brush my teeth and comb my hair before heading down the stairs, where I check that I have everything I need in my backpack. All my homework is present, just need to grab my lunch from the fridge.

  
I head into the kitchen and see my dad sipping his coffee. He doesn’t greet me. I should’ve expected him to give me the silent treatment. I should still say good morning, but, against my better judgement, I don’t. I try to get my lunch from the refrigerator and sprint out, but as I close the fridge I can tell he’s behind me.

  
I sigh and turn around. “Good morning, father.” He glares at me and gives me a hard shove, pushing my back into the handles of the fridge. My eyes turn to the ground.  
“Eyes up when I’m talking to you,” he says, grabbing my chin and pulling it up. I clench my jaw. “You better not come home messed up again.” He lets go of my face. “Fuckin’ fag,” he snarls, going back sit with his cup of coffee. I take that as him dismissing me.

  
Putting the lunch into my backpack, I do my best to calm myself down. I can’t tell if I’m angry or something else, but I can’t be feeling like this when I need to focus on my work. I put on my backpack and go out and sit on my porch to wait for Rhodey.

  
~*~*~

  
Everything seemed normal at first. I didn’t question it when Natasha Romanov sat next to me in homeroom and walked next to me to first period. She can sit wherever she wants, and sometimes you end up walking next to people by accident. I hadn’t noticed that her first period class was right next to mine until today, though.

  
Even when Clint Barton ended up walking next to me from our shared first period class to our shared second period class, I didn’t think twice about it. And Bruce Banner and I chat every so often, because we’re in Science League together, so a brief conversation in the hallway between second and third and then again between third and fourth wasn’t out of the ordinary. What’s really making me think twice about all this is James Barnes, who is currently staring at me from across the lunch room. He walked pretty close to me in the hallway, too. His unrelenting gaze is pretty weird, though.

  
“Hey, are you alright?” Rhodey asks.

  
I shake myself out of my trance. “Yeah, but is it just me or is Barnes keeping an intense stare in our direction?”

  
Rhodey takes a quick glance. “I dunno. He’s probably just zoned out or something. Don’t worry too much about it, Tony. Unless you think he was the guy who-,”

  
“No, no, I don’t think it was him. Just a little nervous, I guess.” I pause, thinking. “Barnes is one of the nice popular guys, right? Just keeps to himself?”

  
“I wouldn’t know,” Rhodes says with a shrug, “I’m only slightly closer to their crowd than you, and that really isn’t saying much.” He takes a bite of the cafeteria made pizza before saying, “Anyways, I wanted to ask if you’re thinking about going to homecoming.”

  
“Me? Go to a school dance? That’s laughable. I could never.” I nibble on my PB&J.

  
“You’ve never been, though. Don’t you think you’re missing out?”

  
“Oh, you’re right. I’d love to waste an evening watching my classmates grind on each other while I have absolutely no fun because I’m a lame nerd that people like to mock. I have absolutely no place at an event like that.”

  
Rhodey sighs, taking another bite of pizza.

  
“You know,” I start, “I’d have way more fun just hanging out with you. But if I went I’d end up holding you back from hanging out with your marching band and ROTC friends. I don’t want you to miss out on fun because I’m moping around.”

  
“I was thinking about skipping it this year, maybe. We could go to the Chinese restaurant down the street from our houses and go back to my house to play video games. Do you think your dad would be cool with that?”

  
“I honestly don’t know; I’d have to ask,” I say, just as the bell rings. We wave good bye to each other and head in opposite directions. I take a glance at where Barnes was sitting, but he’s gone. I turn to walk to gym class, but right when I start walking I walk into something – nope, someone. Sam Wilson. “Oh, geez, I’m sorry,” I rush, scrambling to my feet. He stands with the ease of someone who had meant to fall over.

  
“Hey, no worries. You’re Tony, right? From gym class?”

  
“You’re in my class? I hadn’t noticed.”

  
“Well, both of us kind of keep to ourselves, don’t we?” He asks. It’s obviously rhetorical, though. We both start walking, and he continues. “Our new unit is gonna be tennis, I think. How about you and I partner up? You know, to avoid having to socialize with anyone else.” He chuckles at the end, like it’s an inside joke or something. But, it is funny, and his laugh is cute, so I smile anyways.

  
“Yeah, I guess I don’t see why not.”

  
Sixth period flies by, since I have someone to actually talk to. Well, Sam and I don’t talk much, but really, just knowing he’s near by helps. I know that Obadiah won’t approach me with a jock like Sam near me. It feels like it ends too soon, though, when Sam and I have to go our separate ways. Before I get the chance to walk out of the locker room, though, Obadiah pushes me up against a locker.

  
“What’s with the body guard, nerd?”

  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  
He scoffs, as guys start filing into the locker room for the next class. “Whatever, pussy.” I brush it off as he walks away and make my way out.

  
I’m late to seventh period. I rush in the door, and I can tell the teacher is about to call me out right when I hear someone behind me.

  
“Sorry for making Tony late, Mr. Marvel. I was asking him for tips about my paper.”

  
I turn around to see Thor Odinson. He must’ve been walking behind me.

  
Mr. Marvel says something about how Mr. Odinson should try to be more punctual himself and get to his class. He lets me take me seat without a word.

  
Steve walks next to me on the way to eighth period, but says nothing, which is fine by me. During class, his eyes keep flickering back to me, and it doesn’t help that I can’t stop looking at him, too. He’s cute, but a total annoyance. He’s probably just worried about me because of yesterday. My face is super bruised, and I’ve kind of been limping today. I’ve done a pretty good job at hiding the limping, though, if I do say so myself.

  
~*~*~

  
“So, how was your day?” Rhodes asks. We’re sitting on his bed, working on homework together.

  
“It was fine, I guess. A little weird,” I say, remembering how I got followed by athletes all day.

  
Rhodey taps his pencil on his notebook, not looking up. “How so?”

  
“Okay, I want you to say you’re not gonna brush it off. ‘Cause it really is weird. You just gotta hear me out. “  
He looks up, concerned. “I mean, sure, hon. I won’t say a word ‘til you’re done.”

  
I start telling him about the jocks walking next to me, and Barnes staring at me, and Sam being nice to me for no reason, and Thor saving me from being late, and finally how Steve kept looking at me in class. How it makes no sense to me.

  
“I guess that is a little weird.”

  
“Oh! The reason I’m thinking that is because Steve is the one who found me when I got beat up. Both times. He keeps being super concerned. He even gave me his phone number. It’s weird.”

  
“Well, I think he’s right to be worried. I know I am. And it must be weird for him to find you beat up, twice.” He pauses. “Wouldn’t it be kinda cool to have, like, body guards?”  
“I don’t want body guards, Rhodey… I just. I want to be seen as a person, not a thing their friend convinced them to protect.”

  
“Then text him. Tell him that.”

  
I glance at my phone, thinking about it when I see the time. “Ah, shit! My dad’s gonna kill me.” I start shoving my stuff into my backpack. Running my hand through my hair, I say, “I’m late. I’ll see you later.” We say goodbye and I rush out of his house and across the street to mine.

  
I open the door, rushing in. “Hello?” I shout. No response. I go to the kitchen, he’ll probably be in there, watching the clock for the exact moment I walk in.

  
He’s not there, but there is a note on the counter. It reads:

  
_Last minute business trip. Don’t call unless it’s an emergency. I’ll be back in a week. Keep the house clean, and no parties. I’ll know if you open the liquor cabinet._

  
Thank fucking god. I shuffle up the stairs to my room, dropping my bag next to my bed and flopping onto said bed. I open my phone and start a new conversation.

  
To: Captain America

  
Me: It’s tony stark. why are you protecting me?

  
Captain America: because someone has to

  
Me: well I’d rather have friends than body guards, tbh

  
You have been added to a group chat with Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Bucky Barnes, Thor Odinson, Sam Wilson, and Steve Rodgers.


End file.
